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Fathom's Phantoms Ground Zero

Itchy's six fingers danced across the command console quickly pulling up a ship system diagnostic. Although it took time to get used to the way Humans did thing, the Bug prided itself on professionalism. Having spent the better part of a decade as a drop pilot, Itchy was more than competent when it came to interfacing with human technology... even if they DID have 4 more fingers than normal. Reviewing the block characters written in the human language of English, the Bug quickly began transmitting the ship's condition to the nearest orbital command center.

---DATA UPLOAD INITIATED---

D.C.S. APERCU DRC CORPORATION DETROIT CLASS SURVEY SHUTTLE SHIP SYSTEM DIAGNOSTIC...

*COMMUNICATION ARRAYS* --- NOMINAL ***POWER GENERATORS*** --- 84% ****FLIGHT SYSTEMS**** --- 71% ****DEFENSE ARRAYS**** --- Nominal ****HULL INTEGRITY**** --- 53% (WARNING) *****LIFE SUPPORT***** --- 66%

... ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL. ... WARNING-- HULL BREACH IN SECONDARY PASSENGER BAY.

The Apercu had performed admirably during the sling-shot out of orbit of Echo. Using the gravitational pull from the planet's single moon, Eremus, the drop ship was able to make excellent time on its course out to the Sigma System's asteroid belt. According to mission specs, The Apercu was assigned to H-17, an ice-covered planetoid surrounded by a debris field and two semi-formed rings. Unfortunately, a last-minute change in trajectory resulted in a less-than-desirable outcome.

Itchy included a request at the end of the transmission and slowly sat back in the pilot's chair. "Please review the auto diagnostic and advise."

While the task of relaying information to central command usually fell on the shoulders of the captain, that was not an option. After an unplanned course correction, The Apercu had approached H-17 at an ill-advised angle and passed through a thick portion of the planetoid's corona of debris. It was Itchy's piloting that allowed the ship to make it through without also being pulled into one of it's rings, which would assuredly have ground them apart within seconds.

The lag time between transmissions took longer than expected, most likely due to the analysts at the command center assessing the situation. When the text reply finally did come it was very simple, "WHAT IS THE CONDITION OF THE SURVEY CREW?"

The Bug quickly ran a system check on the survey crew; the bio markers each member of the team wore maintained a basic run down of their health and condition. Itchy's mandibles folded in displeasure as the results came in.

SURVEY CREW DIAGNOSTIC...

PROJECT OVERSEER, JOCELYN SCHULTZ --- CONCUSSION, MTBI GRADE 1; SUPERFICIAL SECURITY COMMANDER, *****MOE***** --- R2 LEG DISMEMBERMENT AT PROXIMAL TROCHANTER LEAD TECHNICIAN, **KYLE LAGRISS** --- MINOR CONTUSIONS; SUPERFICIAL WOUNDS HEAD SCIENTIST, ***IBRIN NLOSK*** --- HUMERUS/SCAPULA SUBLAXATION; DISLOCATION FIELD MEDIC, ***BEATRICE MUNTZ*** --- ABRASIONS, LACERATIONS; SUPERFICIAL WOUNDS UNREGISTERED WORKER, NAME UNKNOWN --- NOMINAL WORK CREW SUPERVISOR, *TIMOTHY ANDERES*, DECEASED: PULMANARY BAROTRAUMA, HYPOXIA, EBULLISM UNREGISTERED WORKER, ***NAME UNKNOWN***, DECEASED: PULMANARY BAROTRAUMA, HYPOXIA, EBULLISM UNREGISTERED WORKER, ***NAME UNKNOWN***, DECEASED: PULMANARY BAROTRAUMA, HYPOXIA, EBULLISM UNREGISTERED WORKER, ***NAME UNKNOWN***, DECEASED: PULMANARY BAROTRAUMA, HYPOXIA, EBULLISM

... NINE CASUALTIES; FOUR FATALITIES.

Itchy had only spent a number of hours with the survey crew, and most of that was spent piloting the drop ship rather than getting to know them. The Bug had met Moe on board Sigma-Echo and the two were on reasonable terms; the fellow Drone did not seem excessively hampered after the crash by the loss of one of its four legs. Itchy had heard positive things about the humans Overseer Schultz and Technician Lagriss but knew nothing about the Voljoi scientist; the Grays always managed to make Itchy feel ill-at-ease. The Bug had come to know the field medic the best out of all of them, however, since the ship's own doctor had died in the accident and it was up to Itchy to help the Gen3 Pig woman handle triage.

Although most new employees would probably have been surprised at the lack of identification for much of the survey crew, Itchy knew enough about working for DRC Corp to avoid asking questions about unregistered workers. Having been stationed on Sigma-Echo during its early construction, the Bug knew that there were plenty of corporate 'employees' that shouldn't be identified. Letting the thought pass, Itchy instead focused on the data and uploaded it to transmit.

"The Work crew and its supervisor were located within the Secondary Passenger Bay." Itchy added to the transmitted information, "The supervisor and one of the workers were ejected from the bay during depressurization. The remaining two bodies are in storage alongside two ship crew fatalities." the Bug also repeated its earlier request, "Please review the survey crew statistics and advise."

Itchy was used to text transmission as a way to maintain clear communication without excessive 'comm noise', but the Bug also found it tedious. Once again there was a delay, although it was much shorter before the reply, "WHAT IS THE CONDITION OF THE SHUTTLE'S CREW?"

If Itchy were human a sigh would have been called for but, as was the way of the Bug, the pilot simply struck its mandibles together audibly several times as it waited for the scent of frustration pheromones to pass and then did as was requested. Itchy pulled up the crew manifest and ran a diagnostic.

SHIP CREW DIAGNOSTIC...

DROP CAPTAIN, ***LORETTA KEIZER*** --- INTRAPARENCHYMAL HEMORRHAGE; COMA DROP PILOT, ********ITCHY******** --- NOMINAL NAVIGATOR, ******RASKA BERN****** --- NOMINAL SECURITY COMMANDER, ***ELY FOUR*** --- ABRASIONS, LACERATIONS; SUPERFICIAL WOUNDS GUNNER 1ST CLASS, ****TIRZSARK**** --- ABRASIONS, LACERATIONS; SUPERFICIAL WOUNDS JUNIOR MECHANIC, *****BURGER***** --- HIGH LEVELS OF CORTISOL/SEROTONIN; STRESSED SHIP DOCTOR, *ANGELA MANN*, DECEASED: CEREBRAL CONTUSIONS, EA EPIDURAL HEMORRHAGE, POLYTRAUMA SENIOR MECHANIC, SABEEN LI, DECEASED: HEMOTHORAX, CERVICAL FRACTURE, POLYTRAUMA

... FIVE CASUALTIES; TWO FATALITIES.

The Bug let out a shudder; it had never liked the feel of the bio marker scan and the seemingly casual response from command wasn't helping. Regardless, Itchy was able to take come comfort in the fact that few others made it through the rough landing as well as it had done; if nothing else, the Bug could take comfort that its professionalism was being tested, but it was otherwise unharmed.

Itchy and the navigator, a large female Gorumn named Raska were the only members of the ship's bridge crew that were seated and strapped in when The Apercu bounced off of a glacier during landing; the impact had thrown ship's captain across the bridge and left the human woman in a coma with brain swelling; the security officer, an imposing-looking male Neo-Human and the ship's gunner, an always-talking hemale Cytkus were each luckier, having received only some scrapes and bruises.

The actual landing, which consisted of a controlled fall, was much worse. The ship's doctor, a pleasant human woman Itchy had known for years had enlisted the help of the ship's mechanic to try and force the shuttle's passenger bays open. Both women were thrown down the hallway when the shuttle impacted with the ground; Angela died of bleeding within minutes while Sabeen's body suffocated due to paralysis caused by a broken neck. Itchy shook its head, mourning the frailty of the human body. Both bodies had been moved to storage along with the two recovered workers' corpses.

Itchy was pleased yet again that the written language of humans didn't accommodate scent modifiers for emotional expression; the next "Please advise." would probably have included an unprofessional indicator. The Bug continued typing nevertheless. "Captain Keizer's condition is critical and deteriorating. Navigator Bern and Commander Four are working with the Survey Crew's Overseer to maintain order. Mechanic Burger has taken over service duties and is working to maintain ship systems."

The lag between the Bug's transmission and the response from the orbital command center was the longest yet. Itchy knew the members of the crew well enough to know when there was trouble, and it was Captain Keizer that usually managed to keep everyone calm in trying times, but she was comatose and, for all Itchy knew, dying of her wounds. Burger, the newest member of their crew, was practically fresh out of training and had logged less than 100 hours of apprenticeship to their Senior Mechanic; the bio scan from the Gen 2 Donkey's monitor indicated that he was probably working himself to death... or at least worrying himself to death. The only member of the crew who seemed unconcerned by the events was--

"So..." Tirzsark's blatant interruption skewed Itchy's thought processes and the Bug glanced over to regard the reptile. Although Itchy was tall for a Drone, it was still a far cry from the Cytkus' immense height and Itchy was required to look up.

The Bug spoke up before Tirzsark could say anything more. "You should be helping Ely."

The comment didn't have the desired effect of creating silence and the Cytkus responded, patting the back of Itchy's chair. "I'm still needed on the bridge. What if the VAC stumbled on us right now? Wouldn't you want the turrets up and running?"

Itchy responded flatly. "There are no signs of rival corporations in this sector, and the VAC would be defying the System Council if they attempted to work this system."

It could tell that Tirzsark had picked up on the pheromone portion of the conversation; the Cytkus were one of the few races that were able to understand the many dimensions of Xtok-Tik-Klak-Tsn communication, and the Lizard took a step back. "No need to shout. Fine... I'll let you finish with the comms." With that, the Cytkus gunner retreated, talon over nose with an expression of distaste. Itchy had personally always found the scent of frustration and displeasure to be subtle, but apparently Tirzsark did not.

A double-beep drew the Bug's attention back to the communication console. "PROCEED AS PLANNED." and the screen turned off.

---DATA STREAM ENDED---

At that point, Itchy had to admit that its scent was no longer even close to subtle. Thankfully, the Bug realized, nobody else was able to comprehend that it was silently 'screaming' as subtly a human baby throwing a temper tantrum-- that would have come across as unprofessional.

* * * * * *

"Your last name means 'The Gray' in Catalan."

It was one of the first things Kyle had been told by the work crew's wise-ass team lead. The man, Timothy Anderes always seemed to have a smile on his face and, no matter how bad the job got, he never appeared to lose his optimistic good nature or quick witted, friendly jabs. At that moment, however, all Kyle could think about was that there wasn't even a body left to send home.

Tim, just like most of the work crew, had died when an asteroid tore through the side of their transport shuttle. Kyle had been in the opposite passenger bay at the time, which meant he, unlike the workers, had survived. He sat on a small crate, completely alone in one of the ship's few private chambers, a small storage closet. He was taking some time for himself while everyone else scurried about, frantic and disorganized. Kyle had a feeling Supervisor Anderes would have pulled everything together with one very crass comment but, then again, he was dead, so such an option just wasn't there.

He murmured quietly to himself. "Kyle LaGriss... Kyle The Gray..."

It always amazed Kyle how much Tim had known. Despite being what the corporate big-wigs referred to as "the brawn", Supervisor Anderes had a surprising amount of brains. Last time Kyle counted, he recalled realizing that Tim knew at least six languages: English, French, Spanish, Catalan, Portuguese, and Cytkus. Kyle had laughed the first time Tim told him that he knew the reptiles' language, but he was even more astounded when the smiling man bought his entire team a round in the saurian barkeeper's native language.

But that was over; Timothy Anderes was dead, and wasn't coming back. Kyle always knew there would be a degree of danger in any deep space mission, but it really hadn't begun to sink in until their shuttle, The D.C.S. Apercu had landed and the deaths started getting counted. Tim had died, along with three of the group's four workers. Other than Tim, Kyle knew Larry Howard the best-- the reliable, work-focused man was a Class 1 Operator, and was familiar with engineering and machining... and was dead.

The team's Class 2 Fabricator and one of their Class 3 laborers also died... but at least their bodies were still in the passenger bay. Ukiah, the Fabricator, was a large, no-nonsense Gen 2 California grizzly bear, and her body had ultimately plugged the tear in the ship. Kyle's engineering mind was often astounded how the flight vectors of modern shuttles were capable of cleaving through low atmospheric planets without a high amount of heat production-- it seemed a morbid thing to think about the fact that Ukiah's corpse wasn't a pile of cinders.

He pushed the thought out of his mind, only to have it filled with another, just as distressing one. The body of their Class 3 Laborer, a young bearcat named Sibu, was found tangled in the safety restraints of his seat. Kyle had been the one to find him and, at first, he thought that the poor laborer had been choked to death by the restraints, but it was later pointed out that the evacuation of the atmosphere in the passenger bay was the most likely cause. He quickly forced his thoughts to lighter memories of the bearcat.

Sibu was actually a few years older then himself, but he couldn't help but think of the Gen 2's antics and overall love of life to make him seem that much younger. While he fought to consider the more positive side of that, his mind kept pushing them out with the realization that Sibu, just like the others, was dead... and that love of life was also gone.

The technician let out a sigh, lowering his head as he rubbed the back of his neck; the strain of losing teammates and his own close call with death was taking its toll-- he was getting emotional, and he knew that it would cause problems if he didn't get himself under control. As the team's Lead Technician it was Kyle's job to create a bridge between the trade-school workers and the PhD scientist. Considering the fact that the team's Scientist was a Voljoi, Kyle usually felt like he had more in common with the workers. It wasn't that Dr Ibrin Nlosk wasn't courteous... he was just... odd.

Time and time again, Kyle found himself with mixed views of the quiet, awkward little gray man. He often tried to convince himself that it was just his own ignorance, or maybe the fact that, being from a small town in Iowa, he never really had a chance to encounter many 'aliens'... they usually stayed near the central space hubs in the United States like Los Angeles, or Chicago, or Atlanta. Other times, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, Dr. Nlosk chose to remain separate from the group on account of some feeling of superiority, or a weird Voljoi social structure. He said the word aloud. "Weird."

Kyle rolled his eyes, berating himself for using such a judgment-laden adjective. He knew he was better than that and, considering nearly half the crew had died before they even managed to land on H-17, he would have to revise his opinion of a lot of things-- especially the good, gray doctor. The next words out of his mouth contradicted his thoughts, "He didn't even take a nickname."

Since Ukiah was named after the city where she was born, everyone on the survey team took a nickname based on their own place of birth. It worked out well enough considering their security commander was a Xtok-Tik-Klak-Tsn, and his name wasn't anywhere near easy to pronounce. Of course, neither was the place he was from, but the group had managed to shorten it to "Moe". Kyle grew up in Iowa just north of Boone, so that became his name. Tim had been born in Windsor, Ontario, so he got the 'hoity toity' name, according to Larry. Larry, the Class 1... his nickname had been Perth. He had spoken with an Australian accent. He was dead.

Sibu wasn't the Bearcat's real name either... it was just another nickname from where he was born in Malaysia. Kyle was astounded that Sibu spoke English so well but, he sighed, it was just more history since the Gen 2 hadn't survived the trip. Moe lived though... despite losing one of his four legs. And the newest member of their group, Sherman, a well-built, tall, shaggy-furred Gen 2 Long Horn Bull from Texas also survived.

Kyle continued murmuring to himself. "Talk about luck."

He casually scratched his pencil across a small pad of paper as he continued sketching. Sherman had been in the secondary passenger bay until about three minutes before they were hit by the asteroid-- Tim had sent him into bay 1 to deliver a message to the team lead. Considering all the damage possible for a craft to sustain while flying through an asteroid field, it seemed almost strange that MORE people weren't injured. Just then, he reminded himself that there were plenty of people who were still alive. "Oh dang..."

Letting out a breath, Kyle fished in his pocket for his Personal Communication Device. He slid his thumb across the screen in a zigzag pattern to unlock it and quickly tapped out a call.

A calm voice answered; it was Beatrice Muntz, the team's field medic. "This is B."

"Arsia." Kyle responded, using her nickname, "How's everyone?"

The Gen 2 Pig on the other side of the line turned on the video feed from her own communicator. Kyle saw the woman's serene expression and he felt a little more relieved. It seemed that nothing bothered the pig and she was able to spread that in an almost tangible aura around her. Out of all of the Gens, hers was the only REAL name anyone seemed to know but she was perfectly happy accepting her nickname. Born in the city of Arsia in Thrias, Mars, the medic had no qualms about joining in on the rest of the team's name game.

The pig responded with a smile. "All in all, everyone could be worse. Sherman helped me set Dr. Nlosk's shoulder and I have it in a sling. Moe's bleeding stopped almost immediately-- I really appreciate the control his kind have over their bodies. I swear, he's already moving around almost as well on three legs as he was doing on four."

He nodded, looking at her face in his PCD screen. "Well... that's good, I guess."

Her voice took on a grave note as she added, "...and... um... Ukiah and Sibu were put alongside the bodies of the ship's doctor and their mechanic."

Kyle responded, but only after swallowing the knot in his throat before trying to push past the thought of death, " I see.... and how's the Overseer?"

Arsia's voice returned to its prior tone. "Buffalo's doing fine."

The overseer's signal inserted itself into their conversation, "I will have you cleaning out latrines for a week."

Despite himself, Kyle couldn't help but smile; the team's Overseer, Jocelyn Schultz HATED the name game since she was from Buffalo, New York-- apparently like most women she didn't like being referred to as a large, hoofed animal. Of course, since Sherman had joined up the jokes got even more crass and so her dislike of the nickname became even more obvious.

Arsia overlooked the comment and offered softly ."You should get some rest, Kyle."

The Man rubbed his sore neck again. "I know. I just--"

Overseer's Schultz was a little gentler than her earlier statement when she interrupted him. "She's right, Mr. LaGriss."

Kyle was always astounded by how much compassion the woman had... despite her steely exterior. Her comment held an almost matronly tone to it. "I want you ready to work... we received word from command that they expect us to continue the survey."

Kyle was ready to object but paused, realizing that his fatigue and emotions had started to compromise his view of things, "Right." he noted, quickly composing himself, "Sorry."

Arsia interjected at that point. "Hey, Boone... if you need, once I finish going over the vitals of the ship's crew I can meet you in the cargo bay... I have something that might help you rest a little."

Kyle shook his head, looking down at the compassionate concern on the medic's snout, "Nah... You have a lot of other folks to worry about... I'll be fine."

"Consider it." the Overseer's commanding 'suggestion' seemed less like the latter and more like the former, "...Boone." she added after a moment, her voice a little more relaxed.

"I will." he offered halfheartedly, "Buffalo."

Although he had expected to get a rise out of the Overseer with her nickname, he was surprised at her actual response, mostly because Jocelyn's voice left its official tone, and he felt her genuine concern even through the PCD, "We all know how much Tim meant to you, Kyle. Take some time if you need it."

It was a few moments before Kyle was able to find his voice, blinking a couple of times to keep the tears back from his eyes. He and Tim had never made a show of their warm regard for one another, but neither did they spend a lot of energy to hide it, and the comment was a little more genuine than his earlier one. "I will."

Arsia continued pressing her aid. "I have to go check in on the shuttle's captain, but I'll see you in the cargo bay in an hour?"

"... yea."

Kyle disconnected the call with his thumb. He continued staring at his PCD for several moments before he finally put it away. Life had become more complicated since Kyle accepted a job with DRC Corp. They paid well, and the tasks he'd been asked to do were anything but boring... but it was complicated... very, very complicated. Perhaps, he reasoned, Arsia's offer would be a good idea... maybe he DID need a rest... maybe he DID need some time to process everything that had happened.

He looked down at the paper seated in front of him on the supply crate, gazing forlornly at the sketch he'd made of Timothy. He stared at it for several more seconds before he felt the frown crease his lips; he was still frustrated that he couldn't get the smile right. Kyle wondered for a moment if he'd already forgotten it. Wiping the moistness from his eyes, he crumpled the sketch into a ball and tossed it into the corner. "It shouldn't have happened... not to you."

Gathering up his tools, the technician left the solace and silence of the storage closet, and out into the maelstrom of activity that awaited his guidance. Kyle was the survey crew's Lead Technician, and he couldn't afford to ignore his duties; later, he told himself; there would be time to mourn later.